The Aftermath in the Spaceship
by SnowyBones
Summary: Temperance Brennan was scared. She couldn't sleep. Couldn't close her eyes. If she did, she would be back in that car. Still buried, still running out of air. Still dying.


AN: I started this fic months ago but then the Muse went on strike for 6 months. Finally I went back to it recently after she had finally returned. I still had some trouble with it though. Including a moment when I wanted to just scrap the whole thing. Thankfully I have some awesome friends who talked me out of *that* silliness. Anyway, this is what my efforts have come to. Thank you to luverofthings for the beta and encouragement to post this. And also to ChaiMonkey for her encouragement as well. :)

Summary: She was afraid of closing her eyes. Afraid of going to sleep. If she did, she would be back in that car. Still trapped and running out of air.

Episode Tag to: Aliens in a Spaceship.

* * *

She was taking a shower again. She'd lost track of just how many she'd taken since she was finally released from the hospital several hours earlier. Whatever the count, it was probably close to double figures by now. It was a good thing her apartment had a good supply of hot water otherwise she suspected it would have grown cold a long time ago.

Reaching for the shampoo bottle, Brennan squeezed a rather generous amount into the palm of her hand, the smell of eucalypts filling the shower stall. She lathered the creamy soap into her long auburn tresses, unconsciously feeling the grit of sand even though there was none there to feel.

Yet she felt as though the clinging, scratchy feel of the dirt and sand would never really leave her. That it would always feel as though her skin was made of sandpaper. Sometimes, she even thought she could still smell the sulfur that made up the soil of the coal mine.

Waking inside her car, disoriented and drugged, not to mention shocked with a powerful and modified, stun gun, Brennan's living nightmare had begun when her mind finally cleared enough to realize that she had been buried alive.

Now, about 24 hours or so later, Brennan couldn't shake the feeling that any minute now she was going to wake up in that car again, realizing that she had never actually made it out and that she and Hodgins were still trapped and running out of air.

Shivers danced down her spine at the thought. Suddenly the shower stall was too small, too hot. Brennan felt her breathing start to become shallow and rapid, a sure sign that she was beginning the first stages of a full-blown panic attack.

Quickly, she reached for the water, shutting the spray off and pushing the curtain aside to step out of the stall, her heart rate increasing second by second. She grabbed a towel, uncaring that her hair was still soapy with shampoo and quickly exited the bathroom, the cool rush of air from the bedroom causing her skin to tighten and erupt into Goosebumps.

Still it wasn't enough; she had to be somewhere that was open. So she made her way into the living room, with its large open floor plan and finally began to feel herself relax. She could breathe again.

Slowly her heart rate and breathing began to slow and as she relaxed again, Brennan felt once more the weight of how exhausted she was fall on her.

Unfortunately the drip of soap on the floor at her feet brought to her attention that the near panic attack had disrupted her showering. Not wanting to go back into the enclosed space of the shower stall, Brennan walked into her kitchen instead; grabbing the spray hose she normally used to rinse her dishes.

Turning the tap on, she adjusted the temperature until it was warm enough before bending her head over the deep, metal sink. Carefully she used the sprayer to rinse the shampoo out of her hair, watching as the suds swirled around the drain and sunk out of sight.

* * *

Brennan collapsed on the couch in her living room, her hair still dripping from its rinsing. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees.

Try as she might, the images of the hours she'd spent in the car would not leave her mind. She shivered when she thought of cutting into Hodgins' leg to relieve the pressure build up from compartment syndrome.

She could almost feel his blood still on her hands, sticky and wet; the coppery, metallic scent still clinging to her sense of smell.

Brennan felt herself beginning to tremble again as tears blurred her vision. She tried to hold them back but they refused to be held at bay, the dam broke and the river flowed out.

Bowing her head she let it flow.

* * *

The light coming from outside had faded to twilight and stars were starting to dot the sky when Brennan became aware of her surroundings again. Her tears had subsided some time ago, leaving her feeling exhausted in the way only a good hard cry does.

Air puffing from her lips, Brennan let her feet drop to the floor, enjoying the coolness of the wood against the bottoms of her feet, as she once more let her head fall back against the back of the couch. She was tired and she knew she needed to sleep. But the thought of closing her eyes, of even trying to sleep gripped her with a terror unlike anything she'd felt before.

Going to sleep meant she would go back to the car; back to being buried alive with no way out. She couldn't bear it.

A cold shiver traveled through her and she remembered her hurried dash from the shower, how she had had to escape the shower stall.

Gripping the edges the towel she still had wrapped around her, Brennan stood on somewhat shaky legs, and made her way down the hallway to her bedroom.

Dropping her towel in the hamper in the bathroom, she dug around in her dresser until she found an old t-shirt that had been Booth's and a pair of yoga pants. Dressed, she ran a brush through her still damp hair before collapsing on the end of her bed.

She stared at the wall in front of her, not really seeing it. She had nothing to do now, nothing but go to sleep. But she couldn't, not if she didn't want to see the car again when she closed her eyes.

Instead she tried to think of something else. Immediately her mind went to Booth. Booth who had never given up on finding her. He'd risked a lot, including his job, to find her. And she would be forever grateful that he had. Thinking of Booth brought to mind the letter she'd written to him. The letter which had been meant to be her final goodbye to the person who had become more than just her partner, and if she were honest with herself, was more than just her friend.

Her heart fluttered when she thought of it, now tucked inside her wooden box of memories she kept hidden on a shelf in her closet. She knew one day she would give it to him, one day, as she had written, when the time was right.

That time however was not now. Now, she just needed to see him she realized. She couldn't stay here alone. She didn't want to be alone. Not tonight.

She refused to examine exactly why seeing Booth was so important, however. Instead she stood, quickly grabbing her shoes and slipping into them before looking for her keys.

It hit her then that she didn't have her keys anymore, that they were buried along with her car in a mine in Virginia, along with her cellphone.

Suddenly she was angry, angry that the Gravedigger had taken so much from her. Without thought she grabbed the first thing that she put her hand on, which happened to be her pillow and threw it at the wall, a roar of anger and frustration sounding from her throat.

The pillow made a dull thudding sound as it hit the wall and then dropped to the floor. Chest heaving, Brennan stared at the pillow for a minute, not really seeing it. Then without warning tears pooled, making her vision swim; and soon she was sobbing once more.

Even as she cried Brennan tried to rein in her emotions, after all she wasn't usually a crier. So why she was crying this much in such a short period she didn't understand. Yet here she was, sobbing into her hands not an hour after she'd done the very same thing while on her couch.

She sunk back on her bed, curling her legs up to her chest, and sobbed, the force of her crying causing her entire body to shake. Tears cascaded down her face in torrents, and images of being buried in her car flashed through her mind; the disorienting moment she woke in the dark, her head throbbing, not understanding how she'd gotten there. The panic when she realized she was trapped inside her car. Her attempts to escape her prison only to realize the true depth of the horror she was facing.

The fear that she and Hodgins would never get out, that she would never see her friends again, that she would never see Booth again; and then writing her last goodbye, her confession to Booth.

Brennan lost track of time as she lay on her bed, quietly crying herself out once more. It was the feeling of the bed dipping slightly and then someone slipping their arms around her, pulling her up and into a warm, broad chest, which brought her to her senses.

"Shh, it's alright, Bones. It's alright. You're safe now. You're safe," Booth whispered, rubbing circles along her back.

Brennan allowed herself to draw comfort from Booth's warmth, his touch along her back and his voice as he continued to tell her she was safe, that she was okay now. She wasn't buried in that car anymore, she was out.

Minutes ticked by and slowly her tears stopped falling. Unconsciously she snuggled closer into Booth's chest, feeling calmer than she had in hours.

Booth for his part just continued to hold his partner and friend, scared more than he could say at seeing how emotionally overwrought she was. He'd never seen her cry like this before. Sure she'd cried before but never like this. He felt helpless, not knowing what else to do other than remind her that she was safe and that he was there and wasn't going anywhere.

By the time she seemed to have finally calmed down completely, Booth could tell she was at the point of being so exhausted that her body would force her to fall asleep.

"Bones?" he whispered, not wanting to break the quiet but needing to know she was okay, or as okay as she was going to be right now.

Brennan lifted her head from his chest, gently pulling herself from Booth's embrace. Wiping her cheeks, Brennan felt her face flush with embarrassment. She'd never cried like that, especially not in front of someone.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, feeling awkward and out-of-place all of a sudden.

Booth's mouth turned up in a crooked smile, his eyes warm. "Aw, Bones there's nothing to be sorry about. We can all use a good cry sometimes." Brennan watched as a shadow fell over Booth's features.

Licking his lips he continued, his voice slightly more shaky than before. "And given what you went through, it's understandable, Bones."

Brennan let her eyes fall to her lap, where she was twisting her fingers together tightly. "I-I find that I can't sleep, Booth. I'm-I'm afraid too," she whispered.

Booth felt his heart-break at her words, anger flaming anew on her behalf at the bastard who had done this to her. _I will find you_, he thought viciously.

"I understand, Bones. But you have to try," he told her. And he did understand. There were nights when the memories of the things he'd done as a sniper had haunted him that to sleep would only mean revisiting the horrors in great detail.

"I-I can't," Brennan said hoarsely. "I'm scared. I'm scared I'm going close my eyes and I'll be back in that car. That you and the others never found us and that Hodgins and I … that Hodgins and I are going to die there."

Booth reached out and touched her hands, stilling their movements in her lap while with his other hand he used his index finger to lift her chin so she could see him.

"You are not alone, Temperance. And you are safe. I'm here. I'm not going to leave. I promise," he told her firmly. Swallowing he finished the rest of his thought. "I-I can stay if you want. Just until you fall asleep. I can stay right here, if you want."

Booth watched the emotions swirl in Brennan's eyes. He could practically hear the gears turning in her brilliant mind as she thought about his offer, weighting the pros and cons of the idea, trying it out.

Finally she seemed to come to a conclusion.

"I'd like that. Just, just until I fall asleep," she said, feeling suddenly irrationally shy.

Booth smiled at her, grateful that she was willing to accept his help. Slipping off his leather jacket, Booth placed it on the chair in the corner of Brennan's bedroom before coming back over to the bed, where Brennan had already slipped beneath the covers.

Climbing back onto the bed, Booth stretched out next her, turning on his side. "Okay, Bones?" he asked.

She simply nodded, her eyes already starting to droop shut. "Thanks, Booth" she said sleepily.

"You're welcome, Bones," he told her but she was already asleep.

Booth watched her sleep and tried to fight sleep himself. He knew he couldn't stay in her bed. That would not be a good idea. Still he stayed, watching over her. Finally he nodded off to sleep himself. And when they woke in the morning, neither partner would mention that they had woken up with their arms around each other.

* * *

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